uNEXPECTED
by Loves-Chihuahuas
Summary: In the chaos of L's death scene, something unexpected happens-- infact, many unexpected things happen. No slash. I know, not Humor, but give it a go, alright? Please R&R.


**Title:** uNEXPECTED

**Reason:** My stupid brain… oh, and the holidays! ^.^

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note, nor do I own a comfortable pair of headphones.

**Warning:** No slash, no warning! Just like to mess with ya! :D

**Important Info:** this is L's death scene, and this fic starts just as L's heart attack hits.

_**uNEXPECTED**_

_Subtitle: Didn't Expect That :D_

L suddenly dropped his spoon and fell as if in slow motion out of his chair. Amidst the muffled screams, Light caught L in his arms and held him, sinking to the floor. L was dying in Light's arms. And he was _thrilled_. He watched L's eyes grow dark, and readied himself to leer at him in triumph- the only problem was, he was being lifted.

Startled and wanting to see L die, let L know that he had won, Light fought to remain by L. He clung to the detective against the hands trying to drag him away, growling protectively, thinking internally, "_This is my kill! Mine!" _He was shocked that he sounded like some sort of wild animal, a predator.

Once again, hands descended among the screams and cries, this time lifting him roughly from under the arm pits and carrying him away from L, away from his victory. "N-no! No! Let me GO!" He screamed, struggling, wanting to watch L's eyes go out, at least.

L died while Light was dragged away, and Light raged inside his head at not being able to smear his victory in L's face, not being able to hear his dying breath, to see if his soul would leave him as his eyes went out.

Knowing that the 40 second were up, Light let out a small whimper of regret at not seeing the world's 3 greatest detectives go kaput. Not having paid too much mind to his surroundings before, his sensing came crashing back to him as he was turned around and held tight against a broad chest.

Light squeaked at the unwanted physical contact, squirming and wriggling to get away, overcome by a desire to see the detective's dead face. Yes, if he could just get a good look at L's face in death, then maybe he would feel fulfilled and-- the person holding him pressed Light's face against their chest, effectively stopping any protests.

Light struggled, trying to free his arms and bashing his feet repeatedly into the shins of the person holding him, only parts of his screaming protests heard from his position against the other's chest, "NO...L...LET ME...HAVE TO…NO!!"

His captor held him relentlessly, never letting him go as he thrashed and shrieked emotionally. The man holding him backed into a wall and sank to the ground, cradling Light to his chest as he continued to fight.

Light's protests fell on deaf ears, and he eventually tired. He pushed weakly against the man, mumbling hoarsely, "Please…no…"

The man continued to hug him and started to rub his back, murmuring, "Sshhhh, it's all right, I'm here, Shhh…" Light, emotionally drained from L's death and his fight to see it, began to get teary-eyed. He buried his head against the man's chest, not wanting anyone to see the moisture in his eyes.

The man petted his head and continued his soft words, "It'll be okay…Shhhh…I'm here…" Light's exhausted brain went over the scene of L falling, the light beginning to fade from his eyes, and he was disappointed to find that he was no longer thrilled with it—that emotion had only lasted a moment, and now he felt…he didn't know. The man repositioned Light's now limp form, and he automatically clung the man's shirt to avoid falling.

Now in a more comfortable position, the man continued to hug Light, comforting him, Light realized with a concealed snort. Why would he need comforting? He had just won! He might not be as happy as he had hoped, sure. And, and his eyes were a bit reactive, but, of course, that was surely to be expected given his struggle. And, it wasn't as if he had lost someone who mattered to him! L was just the world's greatest detective…and his classmate…and the man he had found challenging, stimulating even….and the person he's been with 24/7 for months…and his so-called 'best friend.' Light didn't care…he didn't…he…didn't…

Light screwed up his eyes against the tears now determinedly coming, unable to stop a small gasping moan from escaping his trembling lips. He clutched the man's shirt tighter to himself in a death grip, disgusted at himself for letting his emotions run rampant, for actually _caring _about someone's death! He had killed thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands, directly or otherwise! Why get emotional _now_? He let out a broken sob and snuggled against the man, tears leaking out of his eyes.

The man held him close and continued, "Shhh, it's alright…Good boy…I'm here…" Light's mind, never inactive, reeled at the term 'good boy.' "_Yes,"_ he thought automatically as he burrowed into the man's chest, "_I'm a good boy…good boy…good…right?" _Light felt the man's arms holding him, the solid warmth, and it felt so darn _good_ suddenly to be held, to be comforted.

His frame shook, and he sobbed into the man's shirt for all he was worth, exhausted in every sense of the word, not caring about anything at that moment except for the strong arms around him, the solid chest that had a heart beating a soothing tempo, and the soft, affectionate words encircling his head.

He bawled as he was held like some toddler, like a kid who lost their pet, like a person grieving. He listened to the man's heart and his words as they played a gentle cadence in his mind, "Ssshhh…I'm not going anywhere… I've got you, son… I love you…"

His father, father, father, dad, dad, dad, dad, daddy, daddy. The words swirled violently in his head, engulfing his senses. He hadn't thought to know who was holding him; it hadn't seemed important at the time. Was it alright for him father to hold him, let him cry all over him? Did it matter? Would his father still hold him and tell him he loved him if he knew that Light was a murdered, had made sure the man some twenty feet from them had died? The questions made him dizzy and overwhelmingly distraught.

His sobs became ragged and he felt as if his cold heart was breaking, a term which he had hated and scorned all his life. Yet, as he sat there, sprawled across a man who loved him and hated him at the same time, he found it an apt description for the painful, wrenching feeling in his chest. "D-Dad!" he gasped between tattered sobs, "Daaaad!" He couldn't form what he wanted to say; heck, he didn't even know what in the world he wanted to tell the man!

His father squeezed him in response and murmured, "I'm here, son…It's okay…I love you, you know that?"

Light gasped and fought against his dry, wracking sobs to delivered his unknown message, "D-dad!...Daddy…" He croaked, his voice muffled against the wet shirt pressed to his face, "I…I..Daaaaddy…" He collapsed into his sobs again, feeling as if he were drowning in his hated emotions, wishing he could just tell him whatever it was that was so darn important—perhaps, then, he could be rid of this unbearable pain.

It hurt so _much_, and he didn't even know _why_, blast it! Gasping, he fought his way through his hysterical sobs and imparted, "Daaad, L!...he….he…I_ … hurts_ …" He tried so _hard, _but it just wouldn't come.

His father seemed to have all the words that to escaped Light. He hugged Light close and said, "I know, son, I know…You miss him, don't you?"

Light's head nodded against his father's chest without permission, and he mumbled, "Y-yes, I miss him…" There. Mission accomplished.

"It's alright…he's in a better place, where he can't hurt anymore…he's happy, you know he's happy now?…" Light nodded again, instinctively agreeing with the one tethering him to reality. The pain in his chest lessened slightly, but he still felt as though there were a black hole burning though his heart, sucking everything away. He moaned tiredly, sick of the hurt, sick of the tears, sick of the turbulent emotion, sick of it all.

Light tried to continue with his message, his frazzled brain seeming to tell him to go on, "Daaddy…Dad….I-I…I love you….I love…you so…so much." Finally. He was done. He still hurt more than he could bear, but he couldn't say anymore. He cried tiredly, slowing eventually, still held and comforted. He snuffled as his tears slowed and came to only a few trickles, feeling more worn out than he could remember. His thoughts were mushed, slowed by the aching, throbbing pain.

The warmth. It was so nice. He wanted to just stay there, never to face the world again. Maybe the warmth could make the wretched pain go away eventually; the cold out there certainly wouldn't.

Where was his joy? He had been so happy not too long ago, and now he felt the worst he had in his entire life. Victory? Where did that go? He certainly didn't feel like a winner…he just felt a tired, tired child. Yes, a child being held and comforted by their father—that was all he was now, that was the only title he had at that instant; not 'winner', not 'Light Yagami,' not 'young genius', not 'heart throb,' not 'Kira,' just 'son, child'. Funny how pain erased those things.

He let himself be held, not knowing nor able to care if anyone was watching. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep, sleep away the pain, oblivious to the world around him. He didn't even hear the shinigami laugh quietly as he watched.

Ryuk had watched the proceedings from a corner, only his head popping through the wall. Yes, humans were quite funny; they never knew what they wanted. He found Light's breakdown even more amusing than Matsuda's shrill, girly screaming. Light, he found, was hilarious when he broke down, especially since he had never seen it before. Too bad it was coming to a close. He thought hard in his shinigami brain, wanting to see Light hysterical again. Reaching into his pockets, he found the Death Note Eraser(that he had not given to Light for his own amusement) and stifled a squeal of joy. He beat his wings as he flew over to where Rem's notebook lay in the dust, chuckling darkly…

Unseen by the team who were comforting each other, L opened his eyes. He sat up slowly, wondering where Watari and Jesus had gone, and looked around for some clue as to his location. The workroom, he soon discovered. Wincing slightly at his sore chest, he realized with a jolt that he had died-of a heart attack, thanks to Kira- and was now…alive?

L stood with slight difficulty and viewed the team with a half sad, half amused look on his re-flushing face. He was touched, really, that they were mourning him and Watari--Watari! He rushed out of the room, still unnoticed, and found the old man, alive, in his control room. He called a private doctor to come treat Watari-he was old!- and headed back to the investigation room to throttle Light.

L reentered the workroom, raising an eyebrow at the thought that they hadn't noticed his supposed corpse get up and leave. He walked deliberately through the team, causing Matsuda to squeak and urinate himself, Aizawa to choke on his spit, and Mogi to yelp and do a double-take.

L shoved past them and continued in a straight line towards the pair situated farther back against a wall. L felt angry that someone as kind and upstanding as Mr. Yagami was comforting a mass-murderer(his and Watari's murderer!), even if it was his son.

He stood in front of the pair and cleared his throat, "Ahem." Mr. Yagmai looked up at L, and stared at him open-mouthed. He blinked a few times, evidently trying to make sure L was real, before shaking Light.

Light, L was surprised to hear and see, murmured, "No…no daddy…p-please" and clung to his very wet shirt. Mr. Yagami forcefully turned Light around, and L had to try very, very hard to keep his mouth from dropping at what he saw; Light was a mess, with disheveled hair, a dripping nose, red eyes, and tear-tracks covering his face- heck, there were even tears still falling! Light actually looked like he was mourning, and L was so surprised that he didn't have time to prepare for what happened next.

Light took one look at L, made a half-choked sobbing sound, and launched himself at the detective. L gasped in pain at finding himself in a bear-hug after his heart-attack. Light sobbed nonsensically into the crook of his neck, getting his shirt all wet, "L…L…back…don't…do that!" Just what L needed when he came back to life—his number one suspect to act just like a grieving person, lowering his Kira percentage like crazy, and a big wet spot on his shirt. Lovely.

Light, meanwhile, sobbed all over the detective, more than pleased to have the excruciating pain leave all but a morsel of his heart. Yes, he would sob all over L and get his snot on his white shirt, and he would let L be horrified and ridicule him—anything was better than that pain.

END

Well? It's not my usual writing, so let me know what you think! But, be kind about it, alright? Pwease? Hmmm, I hope I transitioned well in the story, I don't know; this is knew territory for me. Yes, I know that it's odd for me to deviate from humor, but I've had this idea in my head for a while and thought I'd give it a go. There is _some_ humor in it, towards the end. Well, R&R mes amis!


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